


This First Breath You Breathe Into Me

by supposed2bfunny



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: 2Doc AU, 2doc - Freeform, AU, Alcohol, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, alternative universe, and lightweight!murdoc, angel!murdoc, ask to tag, brief mentions of violence and torture, consent is sexy and these two are the sexiest, demon!2d, fallen angel AU, niccalpot, so much of both, there's also a lot of talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 03:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20370151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supposed2bfunny/pseuds/supposed2bfunny
Summary: Written for the wonderful trashfrog99's Fallen Angel Au: After a little liquid courage helps Murdoc find his nerve in asking for something he's wanted for quite a while, Stu is all too happy to show him. Just a super sweet, emotional first time between an angel who fell from Heaven and a demon who thought he'd lost the only thing that made Hell a home.





	This First Breath You Breathe Into Me

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another gift for the wonderful and talented [trashfrog99](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard)! If you haven't read her amazing Fallen Angel Au comic, then get over to her page and do so! And if you have enjoyed it but haven't told her yet, what are you waiting for??
> 
> This is really just self-indulgent fluff because I like the idea that these two idiots love each other so much that they hardly function properly. Like to the point of sometimes forgetting to have important conversations. Oops.
> 
> As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading!

It was the alcohol that started it all.

Of course, that had never been Stuart’s intention.

It had started when he’d complained one evening to Murdoc about how he missed the social aspect of drinking. Once, when he’d been just like every other demon in Hell, he’d spent a fair amount of time at clubs and bars, getting drunk with friends and picking up lovers. It was a lifestyle completely detached from his current one, but he’d offhandedly confessed to how much he missed the fun of getting a little drunk with friends.

“Well you don’t have to go to a bar,” Murdoc had responded in his typically straightforward fashion. “Why don’t you just buy something and bring it home? I’ll drink with you.”

“You would drink with me?” he’d asked from where he had been sprawled across the couch, his head resting on the angel’s lap. “That’s so sweet! What do you like to drink?”

Murdoc had snorted. “I don’t,” he’d replied. “There is no liquor in Heaven.”

“Seriously? Well, lucky for you that you’re down here with me now, huh?”

Months ago, the joke might have been a little too harsh for their strained relationship. Given how fresh the emotional wound of being banished from Heaven had been. But after he said it, Murdoc had only smirked down at him, wordlessly agreeing with his black sense of humor.

Lucky indeed.

And so a few bottles of very, very good cognac had been purchased, libations poured, and Stuart had launched into the task of getting himself drunk while also being the first creature to witness the effects of alcohol on a Heavenly body.

He didn’t need to be messy or loud; those days were best left behind him. But oh, how long it had been since the slight burn of alcohol had cleared his throat, leaving him feeling relaxed and warmed from the inside out.

He knocked back a shot, then two, and finally poured himself a proper glass with the intent to slow down and savor his drink. He then poured a shot for Murdoc—the angel’s very first shot!—and beamed, suggesting he throw it back quickly.

Murdoc sniffed the cognac, grimaced, and, in a single fluid motion, tossed it back and swallowed.

He spent the next minute coughing and hacking and spitting on the floor a little, leaving the demon howling in laughter.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, hands up defensively as Murdoc finally regained his breath, wiped tears from his eyes, and advanced towards him with a glare. “I should have warned you. Oh, sorry, Muds you’re just so funny!”

“Fuck off,” he replied, but he snorted a little bit, and then they were both laughing, Stuart pulling his angel into his arms and Murdoc pretending to fight.

The demon’s wings arched around their bodies protectively, he pressed his face into thick messy hair and felt the first pangs of intoxication soften the edges of consciousness and he squeezed the small body against his own. Murdoc let out a squeak, but didn’t push back, just nuzzling into the demon’s chest.

He was so fucking _dizzyingly_ in love.

And then Murdoc was biting one of the buttons on his shirt, a clear nonverbal cue that it was time to let go.

“Hey! If you bite that off, you’ll have to sew it back on!”

“I can’t sew,” Murdoc replied with a smirk, making himself comfortable on the couch and picking up one of the bottles, reading the elegant script on it, fingertips rapping against the glass.

“Another drink?” Stuart asked, sipping his own cheerfully. It tasted amazing. Felt even better. “Try not to spit up on my floor this time?”

“Oh,” Murdoc shrugged. “What the hell? Why not?”

It had taken a remarkably short time to get Murdoc blitzed. The poor angel, never having had booze in his system before, began to look a little unsteady after only a few sips from his glass. He had already swallowed a shot as well, so Stuart figured it was probably better for him to move slowly for the rest of the night. Nonetheless, he didn’t give up, soldiering on to keep the demon company as he had promised.

Enjoying his own drink and gradual inebriation, the demon chatted with him for hours, often giggling, sometimes feeling quite serious as Murdoc’s dark eyes flashed as different thoughts drifted to the front of his mind in his altered state. It was a strange but special blessing to be able to see Murdoc’s emotions so plain and raw on his face: in no time at all, he was too drunk to hide the feelings simmering just below the surface.

“Do I make you happy?” Stuart blurted out, pouring another glassful for himself. He’d once partied with other demons: it would take a small liquor store to get him properly drunk. Still, he was certainly feeling quite loose. “I’m not asking if you’re happy to be safe, Murdoc. I know you’re content to live here with me. I want to know if I make you happy?”

“Yes!” the angel replied, setting down his glass on the coffee-table that he had repaired himself upon moving into the demon’s home. “Happy…happier’n anything, bluebell! Stu blue!” he giggled at the nickname, and the demon could hardly bite back the smile on his own face.

Bluebell…that was a fairly new term of affection the angel had started using for him. That a demon, born of flame and designed to steal souls and foment eternal punishments, could be associated with something as sonorous as the bright ringing of a bell…or as delicate as a flower…

Well, he’d have to tell Murdoc how much he loved the term. Sometime when the angel wasn’t three sheets to the wind.

“So,” the angel looked at him. “If we’re asking questions, can um, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Stuart replied, sitting back a bit in his overstuffed armchair, utterly comfortable. This whole ‘drinking together’ thing had been such an excellent idea. “Anything, Muds.”

“Okay,” he agreed, rising from the couch and making his way over on unsteady feet. Why he needed to come closer to ask a question was beyond Stuart, but he only beckoned the angel over, amused with his drunken logic. When Murdoc was standing right before him, the demon nodded his head, awaiting the question.

He was not expecting to wind up with a lapful of Murdoc, plopped down across his thighs like he belonged there, his hands coming to grip the demon’s face gently.

“When’re we going to have sex?” he asked, thumb stroking the curve of Stuart’s cheekbone.

Stuart felt his face flushing, hands shooting up and establish some space between their bodies. He sputtered in shock, hyperaware of the weight of the angel, the soft brush of his feathery wings, the warmth of his palms as they pressed into his cheeks. Words failed him as he stammered and struggled to get a hold of himself.

“What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

“You want to, right? Isn’t that what couples do?” Murdoc asked, gazing into his eyes as though the answers were hidden deep within Stuart’s skull.

“Some couples. I didn’t think angels really, do that, Murdoc—”

“Mm, don’t,” he agreed with a shrug and a slight hiccup.

“Right, they don’t, so I didn’t want to push the issue on you,” he said. “Look, I’ve been very open with you about my past. You know I’ve had plenty of sexual partners.”

“Your last lover looked like me,” he said, hands dropping from the demon’s blushing face to his shirt, gripping its front so there would no doubt be wrinkles left behind.

“Yeah, and that was all fine. But Murdoc, oh my sweet little angel, I never wanted to compare you to my former lovers. We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to; I’m happy just to live with you like this forever, to have you by my side.”

“You want to though,” Murdoc accused. His breath smelled strongly of alcohol, but then, Stuart figured his own probably did as well. “I can feel it sometimes when we kiss.”

Ah, well. There was no avoiding that sometimes, when their kissing grew more passionate, Stuart had a bit of trouble containing his excitement. But he always pulled back. Always broke off their kissing, excused himself, reestablished space between himself and the angel. Give himself time to cool down so Murdoc would not have to see his desires so plainly. Not because he was ashamed of his wants, but because he wanted to shield the angel from any sense of being obligated to do anything for him.

He’d been inside Murdoc’s mind. He had witnessed the torture he had endured, the pain and fear that lingered just below the surface of the angel’s very being. And more recently he’d witnessed other demon’s laying their hands on Murdoc, had seen the way the angel simply shut down in helplessness when hands grabbed him against his will.

To say that he was touch averse was an understatement.

Sure, there were moments when the angel hugged Stuart or allowed himself to be held. He seemed to like kissing, and had the sweetest tendency to arch into Stuart’s touches like a cat pressing into the hand that pet it. He never _asked_ for affection though, and the demon had always figured this was due to his fear of being touched.

Had Stuart been misinterpreting? Was Murdoc open to more than he had anticipated? He felt a flare of hope ignite in his chest. “I do want it,” he admitted, more to himself than to Murdoc. There: he’d said it out loud. “But…if it makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to—”

“You know every part of me belongs t’you, Stu,” the angel cut him off, leaning in so close that their lips were almost touching. “I’d do anything to please you. Anything you want. I’m all yours.”

“Oh…” Stuart suddenly wished he had less liquor in his system to process all this. “Murdoc, you’re…that’s very…”

“D’you wanna try it?” he asked, tugging at the front of the demon’s shirt, and that’s when it clicked for Stuart that in his drunken haze, he was trying to undo the buttons, to take it off.

“Here? Now? No!” He jumped up quickly, arms wrapping securely around the angel so as not to knock him onto the floor. “You’re drunk! We’re not doing anything, Muds.”

“You could if you wanted; I shouldn’t—I wouldn’t mind,” he insisted, stumbling over his words, leaning against Stuart for support as the angel set him on his feet and tried to stop away from him. “I want to please you.”

“Oh, my angel, you do,” he soothed, stroking the smaller man’s hair, desperately trying to deescalate the situation. He needed time to think, to process all of this.

“Or, if you don’t wanna fuck me,” Murdoc leaned close again, reached around, one hand landed on Stuart’s ass and _groped_ the round flesh there. “I could fuck you if you want. Whatever you like best.”__

_ __ _

_ __ _

Demons were immortal creatures, but in that moment, Stuart felt quite certain that he was about to have a heart attack and drop dead.

“You little minx!” he cried, grabbing the angel’s wrist and prying his hand away. He was blushing so hard his face burned, and he was filled with the most mortifying mix of concern, shame, and arousal. “How long have you been thinking about all of this?”

“A while,” Murdoc answered, finally stepping back a bit, placing a hand over his own mouth.

“I had no idea,” he breathed. “This whole time, I assumed you’d never want to, that you were too…_pure_ to think those kinds of thoughts. Have I not given you enough credit? Have I been denying us both something that we wanted?”

Any further philosophizing was cut short as Murdoc bent over and vomited.

That angels could be interested in sex was secondary: the most important thing that Stuart learned that night was that angels and alcohol didn’t mix.

XXX

The rest of the night had been a blur for Stuart. He’d cleaned Murdoc up, coaxed him to drink some water and head to bed, and then he’d cleaned the living room, grimacing at his own poor judgment. As he expected, the next morning was filled with death glares from the angel, hung-over and grumpy, rubbing his temples and groaning and insisting that he simply must be dying.

“Welcome to your first hangover,” Stuart teased lightly, joining him in bed with a plate of toast and a mug of tea.

“You did this to see me suffer,” he complained, but he leaned into the demon anyway, nuzzled into his neck, catlike as ever.

The contact made the demon blush as he remembered their conversation the previous night. The feeling of the angel settling into his lap. His breath ghosting over his face…

“Did you mean what you said last night?” Stuart asked, staring dead ahead, eyes focused on a bookcase he had purchased for the angel months ago, now filled with tomes about astrology, humanity, and mythology.

“What did I say?” he asked. “Hardly remember a thing.” His tone seemed a little clipped.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” his courage fled as suddenly as it had appeared. “Nothing much, you were mostly rambling.”

“About?”

“Ah, what does an angel talk about when he’s drunk?” Stuart asked, trying to laugh. “Sounds like a riddle, doesn’t it?” His fake laughter sounded awful; he’d never been a good liar.

The silken hair pressing against his neck disappeared as Murdoc drew back to look at him gloomily. “I said something to upset you, didn’t I?” he asked. “Stu…whatever I said, I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself. Drinking that stuff made me feel weird, my head was swimming. If I said anything mean, I take it back.”

“Oh sweet thing,” Stuart sighed, reaching out, needing more physical contact, whatever he could get. He let his thumbs skim over the angel’s cheeks. “Nothing like that,” and he brushed his bangs out of his eyes. “You er…well. You surprised me. Caught me off guard.”

Murdoc sat, statue-like. His eyes bored into the demon’s, searching for something. “I asked a question.”

He remembered. There was no way he didn’t. “Yes.”

“About…us. Our relationship.”

“You asked when we were going to have sex,” Stuart confirmed, blushing in spite of himself, suddenly too bashful to have his hands on Murdoc’s face like that: it felt too intimate.

“Oh shit, that wasn’t a dream,” the angel groaned, folding in on himself, knees coming up to his chest and head tucking over his knees. He grabbed his hair in fistfuls and tugged. “I am so sorry, Stuart.”

“It’s okay it’s okay!” he set aside the plate of toast (Murdoc had looked ready to puke again at the sight of food anyway) and tried to convince the angel to look at him. “Murdoc, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it!

The angel seemed to perk up slightly at that, his fists loosening their hold of his hair. He mumbled something, undecipherable from beneath his arms and against his knees.

“Uh, speak up, Muds,” he urged, utterly smitten even as the angel acted like a toddler. “You can look at me. This is…a conversation we should be able to have. If we can talk about you getting kicked out of Heaven, or all the ways I failed as a demon, we can talk about if we want to take our relationship to the next level.”

Reluctantly, Murdoc unfurled himself. His face was just as red as the demon’s. “That’s different,” he answered stubbornly. “Easier to talk about the past than about the future.”

“If my future has you in it, then I’m happy to talk about it,” he answered firmly, inwardly relieved when he saw Murdoc’s shoulders relax a bit at those words. “You didn’t scare me off, Muds. I just…I’d come to assume that angels didn’t have sex. So I didn’t want to pressure you into it.”

“We don’t,” he agreed, echoing what he’d said the previous night. “But I’m not like other angels. Never wanted to be one, remember?”

“Still, if it’s new for you, and scary, we don’t have to,” he floundered for his words. “You’ve had a hard life, Murdoc. You tend to panic when people touch you.”

“Not you,” he insisted, and damn, it always managed to cut Stuart to the bone, sink and seep into his marrow when he used that tone with him. So unapologetically blunt, so certain of himself. “I like when you touch me.”

“Oh, my sweet angel,” he sighed, leaning in to let their foreheads touch. “You’re so good to me.”

“So hey, bluebell, would you,” Murdoc nuzzled against him slightly; their noses brushed. The gesture, chaste as it was, felt so unbelievably intimate that Stuart felt his heart leap into this throat. “Would you like to try sometime then?”

Stuart closed his eyes and absorbed that moment, committing it to memory. Because as much as he wanted it, he wanted to remember what this was like: this unbelievable delicacy that their relationship had grown from. The foundation of trust that their love had flourished upon, something that hard started so weak and small. Murdoc’s never-healing wounds. Stuart’s shattered, broken furniture. They were not accustomed to kindness, hardly knew what to do with it. It was so easy to break things: bones, tables and chairs, those gossamer-thin lines that separated Good from Bad and could leave an angel plummeting into Hell, or send a lover far away, never looking back to say a proper goodbye.

To hold a love this fragile, it was only natural to fear breaking it.

“Yes,” Stuart breathed. “Very much. But Murdoc.”

His eyes opened and found Murdoc’s already trained on him, searing into him. “Yes, handsome?”

“I want you to understand that we don’t have to. My feelings for you aren’t contingent on taking anything from you physically, understand? If you never ever wanted to have sex, or if it was never an option, that wouldn’t change anything about us, or my feelings for you. And if we try it and you don’t like it, that’s fine too. What we have right now is enough to make me happy for the rest of eternity already. Okay?”

Suddenly Murdoc was moving forward, kissing him. It wasn’t urgent or dirty. Simply a form of communication: just like St, words were sometimes too hard to sort through, and kissing was a great way to press forward with what he was trying to say. Stuart accepted him eagerly, hands settling in his hair, smoothing where he had previously roughed it up with too-harsh grabbing. Slowly, the demon sank backwards, surrounded by fluffy pillows and opening his mouth with a soft noise as Murdoc’s tongue danced over his lips, dipping in to trace his sharp canine teeth.

“Mm…” Stuart shivered, patted the angel’s head. “Maybe we shouldn’t do it right now.”

“Obviously not,” Murdoc answered, although the flush on his face suggested he wasn’t opposed to the idea. “Head still hurts.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t hold your liquor well,” he teased, guiding the angel to lie down on top of him, head slotted beneath his chin. “Nobody to blame but yourself.”

“I blame you.”

“Our first time is not going to be make-up sex, Murdoc,”

“I hate you,” the angel sighed, but he was shaking softly with silent laughter.

Stuart tilted his chin, kissed the top of his head. “Right. We’ll try dirty talk only once I know you’re not going to throw up on me.”

“That really happened last night too?!”

This time, Stuart didn’t even try to hold back the peals of laughter, nearly jostling the angel out of his arms in his amusement.

XXX

In the end, they lasted a week and a half. The rest of the first day, though he claimed he felt better after resting and drinking some water, Murdoc was clearly still miserable from his first hangover. Having forced them both through the awkward conversation, Stuart felt much more comfortable, once again able to tease and flirt with the angel with the promise that at some point, eventually, they might get to try something new.

He simultaneously ached for the experience but also treasured every moment that they continued to function without it. After all, his previous relationship had started too fast and burned out like a shooting star; he knew how quickly passion could smother reason and communication.

But then, once he was clear-eyed and less grumpy, Murdoc was just so _cute_. How could he not hover over him all the time, take his hands just to press kisses to his bruised knuckles, smooth the hair that would inevitably wind up messy as soon as he turned his back?

So it was hardly a surprise when he found himself pressing Murdoc up against the kitchen sink after lunch one day. The angel washed dishes so beautifully that he had simply _had_ to press a quick peck to his lips, which had lead to Murdoc’s arms around his shoulders, something deliciously warm kindling between their bodies as the kiss continued and continued and continued, and then Murdoc had pulled back, tilted his head to the side just slightly and spoken.

“Bedroom?”

Stuart moaned. “Y-you sure? We don’t have to—”

“Please?” he asked, nipping the demon’s lower lip.

How could he deny his angel a thing when he asked so nicely? It wasn’t like he hadn’t been thinking about it himself anyway. With a huff, he reached down, secured his hands around Murdoc’s hips. For a moment the angel seemed confused, then he understood what Stuart wanted and jumped up lightly, wrapping his legs around the demon’s waist and holding his shoulders tight. Stuart had carried Murdoc plenty of times before; he wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable supporting his weight.

Still, he’d never held him like this in a moment of intimacy, and the angel’s breath hitched a bit as he looked down at Stuart.

“It’s okay,” he promised gently. “I’ve got you.”

He received a nod, and so he carried his angel down the hall and into the bedroom, where he carefully set him down on his back, legs still hanging loosely around his hips and wings spread out beneath him.

Murdoc looked up at him with wide eyes and blown pupils; his lips were flushed from their kissing and his cheeks were dark from the promise of what would come next. “You’re going to fuck me now,” he murmured wonderingly.

“Say it more nicely,” he requested. “I’m going to make love to you, Murdoc. Would you like that?”

The angel raked his eyes down Stuart’s body in a way that the demon had never been conscious of him doing before. He’d always been confident—cocky, even—in his appearance, but now he felt himself falter, _hope_ that whatever Murdoc saw was adequate. The angel’s eyes snagged first on his trousers, then on his exposed collarbone as they roved back up his body.

“Yes. I’d love that. Wanted it for a while now.”

“If at any point you want to slow down or stop, just ask okay? It’s fine if we don’t get all the way—”

“Shut up,” Murdoc cut him off, but there was fondness in his voice as he pulled the demon down by his suspenders, kissing him wet and messy and _good_.

“Hm,” he agreed, falling into the dance happily. After a few moments, he shrugged his suspender straps off, one at a time, letting them fall down around his hips. Murdoc made a soft sound of approval, running his hands up the demon’s chest and then, after a moment’s hesitation, beginning to undo the topmost button of his shirt. Again the demon moaned his encouragement, and the angel resumed his efforts, emboldened. One opened button became two, then three, and then Murdoc was pulling his shirt out from where it was tucked into his trousers.

He chuckled appreciatively as the angel pushed the clothing away from his chest and shoulders, baring him to the room. After some careful maneuvering around his wings, his shirt was removed completely, tossed to the floor along with his suspenders.

“Handsome,” he murmured, fingertips ghosting down the taller man’s sternum. “You’re so handsome, Stu.”

He caught the angel’s wrist, brought his hand to his mouth to kiss each fingertip before letting it drop down to explore his chest again. “All for you,” he said. “Only you.”

Murdoc whimpered at that and dropped his hands lower, beneath his ribs, along his belly. It earned him a ticklish giggle and he beamed, folding away the fact that Stuart was ticklish for later use. He made it as far down as the waistband of his trousers, then began working back up again. Stuart sucked in a breath at the featherlight touches, leaning down to be closer, closer. Murdoc’s hands spread then, his fingers brushing experimentally over the demon’s nipples and making him whine softly.

Murdoc’s eyes widened in fascination and with a half-smile, he pinched Stuart’s left nipple between thumb and index finger gently.

“Oh! Shit, Muds, that’s…”

“Good?”

“Very,” he admitted, lowering himself onto his elbows so he could hover closer to his angel, kiss his forehead to show his appreciation as he resumed his light pinches, drawing whimpers and then moans out of the demon.

“Hm,” Murdoc purred and leaned up, kissing Stuart’s jaw, then angling down towards his ear, lips open and wet and hungry. Letting go of some of his self-control, Stuart allowed himself to drop his hips down so he could rub them against Murdoc’s, panting openly and rutting down into the smaller man as electric heat coursed through him from the assault on his chest and neck. He was already hard and throbbing, and he felt Murdoc shudder underneath him when he felt the press against his thigh.

“Is…’s that okay?” he asked.

“You’re so hard,” Murdoc spoke against his neck, and the feeling of his breath passing over his heated skin had him breaking out in goose-bumps.

“You’re turning me on.”

“I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, shifting down a little bit so he could keep kissing lower down the demon’s body, sucking softly on his clavicle, then boldly pressing his lips to one of the nipples his fingers had been teasing.

Stuart keened, bucking into him hard to relieve some of the friction between his legs. Murdoc let out a strangled noise against his flesh, pressing his tongue to his nipple and laving it obscenely, his own hips snapping up to thrust against Stuart’s, following his lead.

For the first time, the demon felt Murdoc’s growing arousal against his hip, and taking a quick breath to steel himself, he jerked up, pulling back from Murdoc’s torrid touches to look down at him, smirking in spite of how flushed—and no doubt wrecked—he looked.

“My turn,” he said simply, and then he was descending on his angel, kissing him hard enough to take his breath away and reveling at the gasp the angel made as his mouth was not simply kissed but ravaged. His hands shot up, fingers twisting through dark blue hair, one hand grabbing one of the demon’s horns and gripping tight for dear life. He resumed rocking his hips up, trying to grind against the demon again, though Stu held back, didn’t give him the pressure he wanted.

When Murdoc was well and truly delirious from lack of oxygen, hands shaking his he clutched at the demon, Stuart broke apart to kiss low, lips worshipping the bob of his Adam’s apple, the salt-flavored dips where his tendons trembled along his throat. He could smell the blood gushing in his jugular, pushed his lips there hard so his love might eek into his bloodstream, suffuse every vein and artery in the angel’s body, so he could understand with every drop of his blood how much he was adored.

“Don’t stop,” Murdoc begged weakly, mistaking his long, hard kiss for another pause.

“Can I take your bandages off?” Stuart asked, drawing back just enough to speak. It was a loaded question. On the one hand, the bandages around Murdoc’s neck were his greatest defense: they hid the finger-shaped bruises that ran around his neck, reminding him of the fact that another angel had once choked him as he gagged and begged for mercy in his year-long torture sentence. But the left side of his neck also bore the mark of their Contract where Stuart had bitten him when they first met, when Murdoc had agreed to trade his loyalty to the demon in exchange for protection.

As a result of that bite, of that blood bond, he had been able to sense Murdoc when they were separated, had been able to enter his mind and share his memories. The Contract had so often bridged the communication gap that lay between them in the early days of their relationship.

He was drawn out of his own reveries as the angel reached up, willingly unclasping the gauze bandage around his neck and unwinding it slowly. Stuart brushed a finger over the worst of the bruises lightly; wincing at how they darkened right over his windpipe, where someone had really pressed in, making sure he had not been able to draw in even the slightest breath. But then his eyes fell on the marks left by his own sharp teeth.

He remembered so clearly the way Murdoc had jumped at the pain, body tensing as he cried out in alarm. Stuart had held his wrists tightly, easily overpowering him for the time it took to seal the Contract. He’d pulled back after that, lips and teeth red with blood, and Murdoc had beheld him with big, frightened eyes. He’d been so sure the demon meant to kill him, poor thing. Instead, Stuart’s next impulse had been to rush for some gauze to staunch the flow of blood, to tend to his shaky new ward. Oh, he would never forget the curious gaze the angel fixed him with as he tended to him. To his raw eyes, weary lips, to his total distrust of the demon’s kindness.

Now, closing his eyes, Stuart pressed his lips to the scar reverently.

To his surprise, it sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through him to do so. Not the same as the pleasure he felt when Murdoc touched or kissed him: this wasn’t an inherently sensual feeling. More like a part of his very soul and consciousness had somehow blended into Murdoc’s for a moment, like their very essences twined. It was completion on a level he had never felt before.

“Oh,” Murdoc’s hands found his shoulders and squeezed.

“Did you feel that too?”

“Y-yes.”

“It’s sensitive where we’re bonded.”

“Yeah.”

He leaned in, kissed the mark again, his wings fluttering at the sensation that was no less intense a second time. When he pulled back, he found Murdoc looking up at him, face flushed deeply and eyes a bit damp with emotion.

“I love you,” he said simply. He didn’t say it enough. It was so damn difficult to be so vulnerable sometimes, but it was the truth and he wanted to say it more. “I love you so damn much, Murdoc.”

“Stu,” he sighed dreamily, brushing a few loose strands of hair off his brow and looking like he wanted another kiss.

The demon obliged him, but he kept it light and quick. There was more he still wanted to get to. “Think we can get this off?” he asked, motioning to the robe the angel wore. He drew back so that the smaller man could sit up fully and shrug it off, then he smiled fondly as Stuart frantically tackled the buttons of his shirt, hissing in frustration at the difficult task; his fine motor skills weren’t the best.

“Here,” he said, his own hands coming over the demon’s and effortlessly doing the job for him. Stuart was the one with the perfectly-manicured nails, but Murdoc’s own bruised fingers and cracked nails were dexterous in a way the demon could never be. He still needed help tying his own shoelaces, a need that only seemed to make the angel all the more fond of him. Leave it to Murdoc to love him even for the things he liked least about himself.

When he’d unclasped the last button, Stuart guided the shirt off each of his arms gently. He was losing patience, but the bruises, burns, and scarcely-sealed gashes along the angel’s body were enough to keep him from rushing into anything. Almost a full year in Hell, and the angel had not healed even fractionally. Stuart was working to find a spell or an antidote, some sort of black magic to help him recover. But he’d never been book smart, so learning new skills without letting the angel in on the surprise was proving a long and arduous project.

Not that it mattered right now. Because he and Murdoc were half-naked in his bed smiling at each other like newlyweds.

“So handsome,” Stuart praised, running his finger down the angel’s sternum, enjoying the tickle of the small dark patch of chest hair there. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got sexy hipbones?”

“Don’t know if anyone else has ever seen my hipbones,” he chuckled, his laugh turning into a soft gasp when he was pushed backwards onto the bed once more, this time finding himself on the receiving end of the same ministrations he’d just performed for his demon.

Stuart, well-versed in pleasure in ways that Murdoc was not, dove into the task with relish, sucking lightly on both of the angel’s nipples, dragging his teeth along the soft curve of his belly, nibbling softly—and then more earnestly when he heard the moans he was getting—at his hips. He avoided his wounds, but still found plenty of unmarred skin to play with, to taste, to worship.

Within minutes, Murdoc was trembling, arching up off the bed, desperate for a little pressure, wanting for Stuart to grind against him again. The demon decided to do him one better. Instead, he reached for the buttons on the angel’s trousers.

“Say the word and I’ll stop,” he assured quietly. “I promise I won’t mind, lovely thing.”

When he was met with no objection, he undid the flies of his trousers and gently pulled them down, climbing off the bed so he could help Murdoc draw each leg out of them. Though he had initially been a little surprised that their first time was taking place in the middle of the afternoon, he suddenly felt relieved that there was enough light coming in through the windows that he could see his angel so clearly. Perhaps day sex had its advantages. Embarrassed to be clad in nothing but his undershorts, Murdoc instantly hid his face behind his hands, but the demon paused to drink in the sight before him.

What a beautiful thing his angel was. Wounds and all, he was perfect. His face and chest were flushed with arousal, his belly rose and fell as he breathed quickly, nervously. The tent in his underwear made his erection totally obvious. And oh, but Stuart wanted.

“Hey, no hiding. Look at me. Look at me looking at you,” he ordered, crawling back over the angel to pry his hands away from his face. “Don’t be embarrassed; you’re beautiful.”

“I’m a mess,” Murdoc replied, ever the contrarian, even in the middle of intimacy. “You deserve bett—”

“Oh for the love of—” Stuart stopped mid-sentence to grab the angel’s wrist and guide his hand down between his own legs where he was so hard it ached. Murdoc bit his lip and groaned at the feeling of the demon’s dick, twitching at his touch. “Feel that? That’s for you, Muds. That’s what you do to me. Understand?”

“Mm…” he nodded, looking lightheaded. His fingers squeezed fractionally around the demon’s clothed arousal and he hissed, pulling back.

“Easy, angel. I’m trying to take it slow here. You wind me up to bad, I won’t be able to control myself.”

Murdoc met his gaze, eyes bright. “Maybe I want to see you lose control, my handsome demon.”

The words alone elicited a full-body shudder. “Another time,” he choked out, voice a bit low. “Promise. Not your first time.”

And then he was reaching down and gently shucking off the last of Murdoc’s clothes, sliding his undershorts down his long legs, past his ankles, to the floor. He worked his way back up to Murdoc gradually, starting with a kiss to each delicate anklebone, then up each calf. He paused to press kisses to the side of the angel’s knees, to memorize the downysoft feeling of the hair on his legs. By the time he started nibbling his way up the angel’s thighs, Murdoc could only clutch at the bed sheets, eyes trained on the ceiling, and whimper for more.

Finally, licking and biting at the trembling muscles of the angel’s inner thighs, he made his way to Murdoc’s lap and pulled back, licking his lips and taking in the sight of Murdoc’s cock, hard and twitching in need on his belly. His dark eyes raked up the angel’s heaving body to meet his eyes.

“Beautiful,” he said softly, like prayer.

“I…wanna…I want to see you too,” he rasped.

“Oh, that can be arranged,” he replied, smirking a bit and fumbling with his own buttons. Just as Murdoc rose onto his elbows to help out, he got them, and shimmied out of his pants, then yanked off his undershorts too, much less self-conscious than the angel had been, smiling broadly as his tail flicked behind him. He knew he was pleasant to look at. Former lovers had always remarked on how attractive he was, how gorgeous he looked naked. He hoped the angel agreed.

“Stuart,” he sat up fully then, jaw literally dropping as he drank in the sight of the demon’s nude body, eyes raking over his cream-colored thighs, the trail of dark pubic hair leading from below his belly button to where his cock stood, already flushed and dripping precome.

“You’re…mouth-watering.”

“Ooh, there’s a nice word coming from an angel,” he giggled to offset how much his heart thundered at the praise.

Before he could say anything else, Murdoc had reached down and wrapped tentative fingers around his dick, stroking him softly, slowly, seeming to just enjoy the feeling of the rigid flesh against his palm.

“Fuck,” he groaned, hips snapping forward as he arched into the touch. “Muds, oh shit that’s…nice.”

“You feel so good in my hand,” he said, eyes not moving from the demon’s thick cock. “So warm. And hard. It’s…good.”

“I’ll feel even better inside you,” he all but growled, stilling the angel’s hand with his own and kissing the gasp from his mouth.

Yet again Murdoc fell back against the mattress with Stuart on top of him. This time they surged against each other, reveling in the heat of skin against skin, grinding into each other and moaning into each other’s mouths, grinding in earnest and reveling in the friction. Stuart fumbled with one hand, reaching for the draw in the bedside table and grappling around until he procured a small bottle of lube, pulling back, tongue drawing into his own mouth once again as he popped it open with a smile.

“Is that…?”

“Yep! You sure you want to do it this way? I’m perfectly happy to er…_receive_ if you’re more comfortable with that.”

“You said you’d feel good inside me,” he responded. “Prove it, tough guy.”

“Oh, you asked for it, angel,” he popped the cap of lube and poured a generous amount onto his fingers. They smiled at each other: breathless, nervous, elated.

Before his nerves could get the better of him, Stuart crawled down the angel’s body, kissing from the end of his ribcage to his belly, lapping at the soft trail of hair that led to where he ached most to be touched. He pressed a kiss to the head of Murdoc’s cock, then wrapped his lips around him.

The noise Murdoc made was so airy and sharp, it was almost a sound of pain. The cry of someone who had no idea how to let himself feel pleasure. Stuart was more than happy to teach him, he decided as he slid his tongue around the sensitive head, tasting the drops of him that collected there as he worked more and more into his mouth, taking as much as he could comfortably. As he enjoyed the taste and feel of his angel on his tongue, his slick fingers worked their way up his thighs, coaxing them apart gently and nudging deeper, deeper.

Finally, his lubed knuckles grazed the tight ring of muscle, pushing slightly against it, slicking his hole. Murdoc made a garbled sort of noise and Stuart drew back for a moment to look up at him.

“I’m going to open you up now, beautiful. Touch you like no one’s ever touched you before.”

He made good on his promise, continuing to kiss and suck his cock—enough to keep him pleased and distracted, not enough to push him into orgasm—as his fingers worked more insistently at his hole, index finger slipping in slowly, then his middle finger joining.

Around his pants and gasps, Murdoc recognized what the demon was doing, and parted his legs a little more, making the work easier. The tension was still there: his body was taut as a drawn bow, the muscles of his inner thighs clenching even as he tried to make himself relax for his lover.

“Shh,” Stuart nuzzled his lower belly, kissed a faint bruise he’d created on his hipbone earlier. “Easy. Not going to hurt you. Deep breath out.”

Murdoc did as he was told, trying to relax as he exhaled. Experimentally, the demon crooked his two fingers slightly and pushed in a little deeper, and a muscle in the angel’s stomach twitched.

“That’s…”

“Good? Perfect, that’s what we want.” He smiled to himself and repeated the gesture, beaming as Murdoc arched into the twist of his fingers, seeking out more contact. He’d found his prostate then, and from there on out, he knew he could give him pleasure. After a few more thrusts, he was able to work in a third finger, moaning at the sight of the angel’s hole, glistening with lube, taking three fingers and tightening for more. He found himself drooling slightly at the display, and with a final lick to his cock, he pulled back, withdrawing his fingers just as Murdoc was starting to really rock into the movement of his wrist, to fuck himself in earnest.

They locked eyes and in that moment; they both knew what came next. Stuart managed a shy smile as Murdoc licked his lips, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

“You said you love me,” he stated, planting a foot on either side of the demon, bracketing him between his legs.

“Yes,” Stuart swallowed thickly. His chest felt tight with emotion and passion and so much fucking heat.

“Show me how much,” he ordered, and then his legs were coming to wrap around Stuart’s waist, feet settling on his low back and pulling him in.

Stuart moaned and nodded, fumbling for more lube and coated his arousal in slickness as he propped himself up on one elbow to kiss Murdoc. They both groaned softly, kissing messily as the demon maneuvered the angel’s hips, guided his cock to press against his hole and pushed.

He didn’t go too fast.

In fact, the pace was excruciating. He pulled back enough to watch Murdoc’s eyes screw shut in a wince as he was stretched to capacity, taking Stuart inch by inch, his body adjusting to penetration.

“Hurts?” Stuart asked breathily.

“No,” Murdoc lied around a grimace. The demon started to pull back, so he changed his tune quickly. “Yes! A bit. Not so bad though. Don’t move. Just, give me a second here.”

“We can stop.”

“I’ll kill you if you stop now,” he growled, and the demon chuckled. Feisty even as he let a demon fuck the virginity out of him. What a fighter. Heaven above, he loved him madly.

So he remained inside him, leaning in to nuzzle the tip of his nose against the angel’s, blowing over his lips teasingly until he got a faint smile out of him. “It’s okay, my angel. Breathe.”

He nodded and reached up, wrapping his arms around the demon, fingertips dancing along his shoulder blades, then his wings. When Stuart grunted and jerked his hips the smallest amount at the touch, the angel looked at him curiously.

“It feels good when your wings are touched?”

“Um,” he let out a shuddery breath of embarrassment. “It’s a very intimate gesture amongst demons. We have a lot of nerve endings there. Lovers often touch each other’s wings. But you don’t like yours touched so I never wanted to mention it—_ah!_”

Murdoc turned his words into whines as he ran both hands up along the demon’s elegant wings, fingertips spreading wide so he could skim them over the demon’s dactylopatagium brevis, where he was most sensitive and shuddered the hardest, and along the hornlike spine, and back again. For a while, the demon was content to take the pleasure, his soft noises letting Murdoc know how good it felt. But the more he was touched, the more he began to cant his hips until slowly, he was giving soft, shallow thrusts in and out of the angel. Murdoc’s nails dug into the soft webbing of his wings lightly as he keened, writhing up to meet his thrusts.

His body was finally relaxing, and it was becoming pleasurable for him too.

“Can I,” he started, head spinning with lust.

“Please yeah, _move_,” Murdoc answered, throwing his head back.

And just like that Stuart was allowing his inhibitions to loosen as he began to _really_ move, pulling most of the way out before sliding back into the angel’s tight wet heat. He looked down in awe at the sight of his cock disappearing between his lover’s shaking thighs and groaned. This electricity, this passion, this adoration. He had never loved anyone like this, and somehow seeing Murdoc coming apart underneath him was even more powerful than the waves of pleasure that coursed through him with each thrust.

He needed the angel to know, to understand. So gently, he urged Murdoc’s hands away from his back. As gratifying as the pressure on his wings felt, they could always revisit that another day. For now, he pinned the angel’s hands down against the mattress on either side of his head, their fingers interlaced, palms pressing together. He could smell and feel the blood rushing through both their veins like rivers, could practically feel how the angel’s lungs swelled with each whooshing breath as his body writhed with newfound euphoria. The room was filled with the sound of their skin meeting, slick and dirty.

“Stu,” he half-sobbed, head rolling to the side, glazed eyes searching for the demon’s.

“I’ve got you,” he answered hoarsely. “Don’t worry.” _Please just let me give this to you. Don’t fight me, don’t question me. Just let me_ show _you_.

Words were difficult. Emotions were difficult. Stuart had never been one for reading, for finding new vocabulary to express his gut instincts. And if his past, failed relationship was anything to go by, he was no good at expressing himself in non-verbal ways either. He had always been too much. Too excitable, too quick to anger, too loud, too unpredictable, too himself.

But his angel never had a problem understanding him. Murdoc always accepted Stuart’s outbursts, his attitude, his quirkiness, with the same levelheaded loyalty he’d shown on the first day they’d met. Murdoc didn’t need to try to translate Stuart’s ever-overflowing well of feelings; he could sense them himself. Stuart’s very mind and body were something that Murdoc could comprehend instinctively, moving with the demon like his shadow, always in sync, always right there beside him when Stuart turned his head, turning the demon’s solitary life into a graceful duet.

Murdoc never questioned why he was the way he was, he simply threw himself into being a part of his life.

It was high time the demon showed him just how much he appreciated that effortless show of love.

“Oh fuck! _There_!” Murdoc nearly shouted, swiveling his lower body to try and get the demon to hit that spot inside of him that he’d just brushed.

Stuart huffed and slammed into him _right there_ again, knocking the breath from the angel. Though he had intended to be gentle with him—for a demon, he was being quite gentle—he still found them both bouncing against the mattress with the force of his thrusting. It was good though, hot to see how much Murdoc could take from him and still beg for more.

He pressed harder against the angel’s wrists, holding him down tight and lowering his entire body to drape over the smaller man’s: their thighs, bellies, chests all rubbed, slick with sweat, and the demon resumed kissing the angel’s neck over his bite-mark.

Murdoc took it all in bliss, moaning and then, ultimately, panting as he writhed against his lover, legs spreading open even more so he could lock his legs around Stuart’s waist, body open and desperate to be filled to the brim.

“More, Stuart I need you,” he begged. “More!”

“Anything for you, my angel,” he promised, licking sweat off his skin, groaning at the taste. His own orgasm was fast approaching: he couldn’t take much more of this. He pulled back just enough to see his angel’s face, to take in the way his eyes rolled back in pleasure with each deep thrust. The demon’s eyes flicked down to where Murdoc’s cock lay across his belly, dripping precome, twitching each time his prostate was hit. Smirking, the demon released one of Murdoc’s hands to reach down and stroke him, wrist snapping along in time as he fucked him. Murdoc instantly grabbed the demon’s shoulder, needing to touch him, to ground himself in the midst of all this sensation. His mouth fell open as his pants became faster, his whines higher in pitch as he raced to the precipice.

“That’s it, Muds. Show me. Show me how much you love to be filled up,” he gasped, nearly overcome with lust.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck! _Stu_!” Murdoc’s head flew back and suddenly he was shooting, hot and thick, all over Stuart’s hand and onto his own stomach. His body clenched around the demon so tight it was almost too much, and he shook with release, thighs tightening momentarily around the demon.

Stuart fucked him through his orgasm, hips canting faster, then faster and _harder_ as his own climax ripped through him with such sudden intensity his vision went black. Murdoc’s enthralled keening suggested that he liked the intensity of the demon’s orgasm just fine. Stuart was aware only of the unspeakably good pressure around him as he rammed home, of the heat of Murdoc’s body exploding against him, of how fucking much he wanted the moment to last forever.

Of course it didn’t. After he had spilled himself in the angel, he began to slow his thrusts and finally stilled, desperately dragging air into his lungs. For a few blinks, his vision was dark and blurry, and as he gradually began to focus, his eyes met Murdoc’s.

The angel looked at him in pure awe, his eyes wet with unshed tears. He was a complete mess, cum splattered all over his torso, ever-messy hair now a catastrophe, cheeks flushed and drool evident along the corners of his mouth. He looked devastated in the best way possible, and the swell of possessive affection that shook through the demon was like nothing he had ever felt.

“Oh,” Murdoc croaked, voice cracking. “Oh, Stuart. God, I love you.”

He couldn’t articulate an actual response. His lips moved to form words, but what words could he offer back? _I love you too_ felt so trite when he felt he stored whole oceans within his chest, galaxies were hidden just behind his eyes, he felt, packed with infinite constellations of devotion for his angel. Unexplored universes with unimaginable depths lay untapped beneath his skin, just waiting to burst forth in new ways to express his dedication.

After a few minutes of watching Stuart gape, Murdoc smiled and reached up to stroke his bangs out of his face—and _oh fuck_, but his hands were shaking badly.

“Are you hurting?” he whispered in horror as the angel’s fingers moved along his temple, traced an eyebrow.

“Not at all. It was just. Overwhelming. In a good way, though.”

“Oh thank goodness,” he sighed in relief. He hadn’t realized his hair had become so messy, loose strands that he normally slicked back had fallen all around his face, and the angel took his time smoothing it back for him as he regained his breath.

Eventually, for both of their comfort, the demon drew back, flaccid cock sliding out of Murdoc as they both grunted at the sensation. “Come back,” the angel had the audacity to joke quietly, and that’s when Stuart was leaning in to kiss him again, it always came back to kissing Murdoc. It was his first instinct at the beginning of each day, and what he did before he fell asleep each night.

The angel sighed happily and kissed back, sitting up slightly so he could stretch his wings a bit, a much-needed task since they’d been pinned to the mattress for so long. His hands found Stuart’s hair again, and though they still shook, it was noticeably less than before. He murmured something into the demon’s mouth, too busy kissing to speak clearly.

“What was that, my angel?”

He drew back just a bit to kiss the tip of the demon’s nose. “Yours.”

“Murdoc,” he breathed, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Ha,” he smirked against the demon’s mouth, kissed him sweetly. “I mean it. I’m yours, love.”

“And I am yours,” he promised, pulling away only because he wanted to cuddle and they were going to have to clean the bed before doing that. “So let me show you that by getting you tidied up, okay?” He had definitely earned a few hours of snuggling, but first, he needed a damp washcloth and maybe a glass of water.

XXX

Soon after, they were both curled up in bed together, Stuart’s tail wrapping around one of the angel’s ankles, their arms draped around each other’s nude bodies.

“It doesn’t feel real,” Murdoc said softly, not raising his eyes from his own finger, which was tracing random shapes on his demon’s chest and shoulders.

“Please let me know if I hurt you, you can just come out and say it.”

“No, not the sex part, that was fine,” he replied. “I mean. The happiness part. Sometimes when I sleep, I still have bad dreams, and sometimes even during the day, my mind goes back to my time in Heaven. And Stu, it has nothing to do with you. You’re a damn wonder. But it feels so bloody real. Like I’m still in prison, in solitary confinement, at their mercy.”

“I know, Murdoc.”

“And then I open my eyes. And I’m here, with you. It doesn’t seem possible that there’s so much goodness in the world. When I say that I’m yours, Stu, that whatever you want from me, you can have, that every last drop of my blood flows for you…I mean it. I thought I’d lost the capacity to feel happy. But with you I feel…whole. And each day you show me new ways to feel things once again. You’re amazing.”

His finger had stopped moving over the demon’s chest, and his gaze was less focused. Stuart closed his eyes, only so that the angel would not see the tears pooling in his eyes.

“Sorry. That probably sounds mental.”

“No,” he whispered because he didn’t have a voice. “I’m…oh, Murdoc. I’m yours too, sweet thing. From the moment I first saw you, I knew that I would do anything to keep you safe. And that hasn’t changed.”

“Mine,” he said, and it was a request.

“Yes. Yours.”

“_Mine_,” he repeated, hand coming up to cup his cheek. “My Stuart.”

“Forever and always,” he promised, leaning in for another kiss.

The kiss turned into a make-out session that stretched on well into the evening. Stuart only became aware of the passage of time when he realized he had to strain slightly to see Murdoc: their bedroom had become dark. This hardly stopped them, and soon his hands were dancing over his angel’s body, mindful, always mindful of bruises and scars, but lingering over the places his mouth had left light marks. Eventually, Murdoc’s hand came around his wrist and guided his fingers between his legs, where he was still loose and slick.

They both moaned softly as his fingers slipped inside, meeting little resistance.

“Where you belong,” Murdoc managed around a coy smile, kissing the corners of his mouth but teasingly avoiding a full kiss.

“You’re rather bossy in bed, luv,” he replied. “I may have to put you in your place.”

“Yeah right,” he snorted, not the least bit intimidated, and he leaned in, pressing the front of his body to the demon’s; he was becoming hard again. “You’re the one who’s been fantasizing about this for ages.”

Stuart’s fingers twisted just a bit, crooked against the bundle of nerves that made the angel’s toes curl. “Fair enough. It was definitely worth the wait. And I get the impression you and I have a lot of lost time to make up for now.”

Biting back a whimper as the demon slipped another finger inside of him, Murdoc hooked his leg over the demon’s hip, offering him better access and smiling playfully. “Oh, we have so much catching up to do,” he agreed. “Better get started, hm?”

Stuart pulled him closer, kissed his forehead. “That’s the best idea you’ve had in…well, at least a week, my love.”


End file.
